


Kill Me Slowly with Your Kiss

by wara_ningy0



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Otabek Altin, Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Bottom Yuri Plisetsky, Guns, Happy Ending, Knives, Love/Hate, M/M, Mafia AU, Mild Language, Smut, Special Agent AU, Top Otabek Altin, blowjob, otayuri - Freeform, slight Viktuuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-01-17 16:35:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12369723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wara_ningy0/pseuds/wara_ningy0
Summary: Hasetsu Special Agency is on a mission to eliminate a particular Russian Mafia Organization and its up to their best agent, Otabek Altin to make sure everything goes smoothly. The Nikiforov Bratva seems like any other organized crime syndicate, but could looks actually be deceiving? And just like the HSA has Otabek as their top agent, they have the Russian Ice Tiger on the Nikiforov's side. Two sides clash, but only one will remain intact. Pick a side.





	1. Man on a Mission (Edited Version)

**Chapter 1: Man on a Mission**

_“This place is sick! It looks like an Ikea showroom in here.”_ The transmission carried a buzz along with JJ Leroy’s comment. _“Apparently someone in here loves poodles. They have pictures hung all over the wall.”_ Okay, so this particular Russian mafia organization prefers Swedish interior design and poodles, what else could they learn about them. Seriously, whose bright idea was it to put JJ on undercover mission? _“Well, well, look at that. Looks like they like cats too. A very cute – what the fu--!! Damn it! Code Red! Russian Ice Tiger! Russian ic—“_

A short buzz cut the transmission from Agent Leroy’s wireless in-ear receiver and ended all means of communication he had with the base. Special Agent Otabek Altin and his comrades listened to it a few times to get as much clue as they could from the Canadian Agent’s undercover mission. It wasn’t that much, but the last part when Leroy had announced Code Red was an important key.

Russian Ice Tiger.

The name had appeared a few times while investigating the mafia organization. They had heard that he was one of the skilled members who was entrusted with getting rid of those who were a threat to the organization. Despite having bodyguards around them, the victims ended up dead somehow. The Hasetsu Special Agency, HSA for short, believed that the Russian Ice Tiger was dangerous and should be approached with caution.

The HSA was an international crime-eliminating agency, set up to wipe out organizations that threatened the public in large scale, often involving more than one country. The agents were highly skilled and trained for high-risk combats. They were outstanding individuals who were carefully picked after serious background consideration and passing several tests inclusive of mental-cognitive and physical ability. Otabek was barely seventeen when he was first recruited. Five years later, at twenty-two years old, he was the best agent HSA had ever had.

“What else is new about this organization?” Otabek asked, as he closed the file he had gone through so many times in the past four months. He couldn’t wait to get rid of this mafia group. Working on the same case for four months straight was starting to make him feel homesick. He could use a cigarette right now, but the HSA Chief, Okukawa Minako, forbade them from smoking on duty. He swore, if the old hag hadn’t been his superior and also the person who recruited him, Otabek would have smoked a pack by now, given the amount of stress he was under. Being the ‘golden child’ of the agency was not all sunshine and rainbows.

“Another team I sent undercover confirmed that most of the members were somehow coerced into working for Nikiforov’s mafia. They owed them money or favours and couldn’t pay back because of the insane interest, then one way or another, had to do the dirty work for them,” the head of the Undercover Unit, Nishigori Takeshi, presented to the other Unit leaders and their chief.

“Even the Ice Tiger?” Otabek raised a questioning brow.

“That character is an enigma.” Nishigori took another file and pushed it to the middle of the conference table. “No idea who he is, but our informants told us that he can be found at the club ‘Eros’.”

Otabek pulled the file towards himself. Club Eros. One of the main financial sources of Nikiforov’s mafia. It was a members-only casino and club owned by the organization. Heavily secured with monstrous-looking guards, and membership was obtained through special invitation only. “I trust that the Tech unit has the membership covered for the mission?” Otabek, who was also the leader of the Combat Unit turned to look at a tanned Asian man across the table from him, Phichit Chulanont, serving as the Leader of the Technical Unit.

Phichit, whose smile made him look five years younger than his actual age, raised two fingers making a peace sign. Although most of the special agents were fairly young, Phichit was one of those who hardly looked like they were out of high school. “Drop by at the lab later. I’ll show you what we have for the mission. You’re going to like it” he said with excitement. Phichit was always fascinated by gadgets…and social media. According to rumours, he was recruited after designing a special gadget for the agents just by learning some hacks on Youtube. Their chief had followed him on Instagram on the pretence of keeping an eye on the kid, but honestly, everyone knew she had been asking him tips on the best angle for taking pictures and posting them on her own account.

“What should we do about JJ though?” someone pointed out. That damned JJ. Who the hell went undercover as a pizza delivery guy in a place who hired a personal chef? Otabek almost slapped his palm against his face.

He’d met the guy when they were still trainees. JJ was a senior and a year older, but Otabek had completed his course first. He was the reason why Otabek developed a slight Napoleon Complex. Otabek had only been five foot six when he had started as a HSA Trainee while JJ was ten centimetres taller. It hurt his pride a little when JJ mentioned if Otabek had been one centimetre shorter than he was at the time, he wouldn’t have made the cut as an agent. It didn’t really help that he’d stayed the same height even after he’d turned nineteen. That had changed the summer after he’d turned twenty. After a long mission, feeling severely exhausted and body aching like he had been ran over by a steamroller, Otabek had takena few days off, only to come back on duty with none of his uniforms fitting him. That had shut JJ up about his height, but the guy always found something annoying to talk about.

“Any demands from them?” Chief Minako put her elbows on the table’s surface and her chin on her knuckles.

“Negative.” Nishigori, JJ’s unit leader shook his head. “Perhaps they haven’t figured out he’s one of us.”

Otabek liked to think so, too, but knowing JJ and his big mouth, the mafias would love him dead more than alive. If Otabek could have gotten away with murder, he would have shot him every time he got them into trouble. Wait, he could actually get away with murder if he wanted to. The next time JJ got into some shit again, he would consider that option, if JJ happened to still be alive by the end of this mission.

“Ok then. We’ll stick to the original plan. We have enough evidence to shut down Nikiforov’s group for good. But first, we need to determine how many of the members are forced into doing their business. Rescuing Agent Leroy is a priority once his situation is confirmed. Agent Nishigori –“

“Yes, ma’am!”

“You take your team and do some intel work. Report back to me in two days.”

“Roger, ma’am!”

“Agent Altin, find out about the Ice Tiger. I trust your judgement to take any actions that could contribute to the success of this mission. Be on guard.”

“Understood.”

“Dismissed.”

**_-YURI O N ICE-_ **

“So, here’s your special passport to Russia, VVIP membership to Club Eros, and your undercover ID.”

Phichit Chulanont carefully explained the items one by one after giving Otabek a whole case of weapons for his mission. Normally Otabek would have been equipped with his Glock 22 .40 and some army knives hidden in his boots and belt, but Phichit upped his game and tinkered with everything.

“Your tuxedo will be delivered to your hotel room. The microphone will be embedded to the second button of your shirt. Don’t forget to turn it on before you leave for the club.”

“Tuxedo…”  Otabek mumbled. This was why he was not part of the Undercover team. They had all sorts of costumes back at the unit. It looked more like a high school drama club than an Intelligence’s office.

Phichit slapped his colleague on the shoulder, smiling like he always did. “Don’t worry, Chief Minako got you a new pair, tailor-made to your size. So nice to be the best HSA agent, huh.”

It wasn’t about whether the tuxedo was brand new or not, but Otabek didn’t respond to Phichit’s remark. Tuxedo wasn’t his thing. If the club weren’t so tight on dress code, he would just walk in in his biker jacket and jeans. Regardless of how many times he did it, wearing tuxedo was way out of his taste.

“Thanks Phichit. I’ll see you later,” he said, gathering all the equipment Phichit had presented to him earlier, along with a case full of ammunition. The HSA jet would depart in a few hours, so he needed to start packing his gears. Not that he needed to bring much since HSA had international alliances who made sure the Agents could get anything they needed when they were on duty at any time.

“Otabek, wait!” His leg was almost out of the lab door when Phichit called out to him. Otabek turned his head slightly to look at the other Unit Leader without turning his body fully. “You’ll need this, too. Catch!”

Otabek caught the small box with one hand and looked at it. His eyebrows furrowed, then he threw the box back at Pichit. “I don’t need it, damn it!” he huffed, and walked out the door. Phichit should just mind his own business. Even though it was not uncommon for things to go in ‘that’ direction, Otabek wasn’t going to take his focus off the mission for a momentary pleasure.

“It doesn’t hurt to be well-prepared,” Phichit sighed, returning the box to the cabinet behind him. The bold letters on the box said ‘Extra large, Long Love Night’.

**– End of Chapter 1 –**


	2. It Starts with a Bang (Edited Version)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday night was always a full house. The casino part of the club was busy with gamblers throwing in their chips in trust of their luck if not for their supposedly good skills at gambling. Yuri took the centre stage and as the background music played, he immersed himself in the sequence of one of his most notable performance - Agape. He let his body flow like a river - nurturing the purest form of love. Quite ironic, seeing that he was dancing in a club filled with perverts. He didn’t care about the insolent eyes on him, stripping him of his costume, molesting his pure, untainted body. Those eyes disgusted him to the core, until he felt a gaze so electrifying coming from the direction of the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologize beforehand if any of my depiction of Russia, the language, terms, culture or whatever reference I used in this chapter and the coming updates offended anybody or were misinterpreted because of my lack of knowledge and research.

**Chapter 2: Kiss the Foe**

Winter is St. Petersburg could be merciless. It was only November, but the temperature outside was already in the negatives. The ground was yet to be covered with white blankets, but one could wake up the next morning in a sea of snow any moment now. The cold sometimes sucked, but the historical city did not lose its appeal, even in harsh weather. There was something romantic about a beautiful city veiled in pure white winter snow.

But even though it was cold outside, the heat was rising in a grand room, lit by the embers in the fireplace. Two figures moved on the sea of silk sheets and duvet spread on a big four-poster bed in the middle of the room. Suppressed moans and gasps filled the air and a pair of legs thrashed uncontrollably from over-stimulation.

“No, Yuuri, that’s not how you do it. You need to be more expressive. You need to be ‘Eros’.” A seductive voice whispered gently at a fully reddened ear.

“V-Viktor, I can’t. Please, no more,” a male with silky black hair and pale skin begged. His body couldn’t take the sweet torture he was given anymore, but his captor was as merciless as he was passionate with his gentle touches. It made the person called Yuuri tear up.

Viktor’s hand continued to caress the naked body splayed on his bed. “Not yet, Yuuri. You need to learn…”

“I’m sorry, Viktor. Please! Let me go!”

“That’s not possible, Yuuri. You are mine.” Viktor’s fingers teased and stroked and pumped.

Yuuri’s hand gripped the sheets so tight that his knuckles turned white. “Vik--! Ahn! Ahhhh!!”

Viktor’s chuckle rang like bells as he took pleasure from watching the white liquid drip down from his hand. Ever since he’d had Yuuri in his possession, everyday had been more enjoyable and exciting. Of course, he couldn’t say the same on Yuuri’s behalf. But judging from how Yuuri flushed from head to toe, chest falling and rising from panting hard, and mouth slightly open from gasping for air, it was clear enough that the delight wasn’t one-sided.

“That’s it, Yuuri. This is Eros” he murmured in Yuuri’s ear, telling him the ‘just-fucked’ look oozing from Yuuri was exactly what he was aiming for. Viktor brought his hand in front of Yuuri’s face, knowing the other man understood what he needed to do. Yuuri obediently parted his lips and took two of Viktor’s fingers, licking them clean from his own essence.

Viktor’s fingers were teasing Yuuri’s tongue when there was a knock on the door.

 

“Who is it?” he asked, a little displeased that his playtime with his pet was interrupted.

“It’s Georgi,” answered the voice on the other side of the door. Viktor extracted his fingers from Yuuri’s mouth and wiped them clean using the handkerchief inside his suit pocket. Yuuri sighed at the sudden abandonment as the Russian got up from the bed. He straightened up his expensive striped suit then blew a kiss towards the figure lying on his bed.

“Be good and wait for me.”

His happy face disappeared once he opened the door, which revealed his assistant, who was standing there looking apologetic. “This had better be good,” he said harshly in Russian and slammed the bedroom door behind him.

“Pardon my intrusion. It seems like we might be getting some unwanted company at the club tonight,” Georgi Popovich, a man who had a fondness towards heavy eye-shadows relayed the information he had just received to the head of the mafia he was working for, Viktor Nikiforov.

“Who?”

“An international crime-eliminating organization called Hasetsu Special Agency. Looks like the pizza guy was one of their agents.”

Right. The mouthy pizza guy had snuck into Viktor’s enormous mansion, which also served as their group’s HQ. Thankfully, their Ice Tiger had been  around when the guy had gone in and, for some reason, the so-called Special Agent had been dumb enough to get caught. Viktor had him locked up in one of his containment rooms down in the basement.

Despite being called a containment room, it was actually a small bedroom with iron bars to keep someone in. The agent was being served with their chef’s gourmet six times a day. Even if he got out, Viktor doubted he could run very far.

“What are we going to do when they come to the club?” Georgi waited for Viktor’s commands.

“Let them come. We have Yura there. He can handle a mere agent.” Viktor didn’t need to think too hard, since he had the reliable Ice Tiger guarding the club far better than any of the bouncers he hired. “Let the kitten be their death.”

**\- YURI O N ICE –**

“I’m sorry dedushka, I can’t come home right now,” Yuri Plisetsky apologized to his grandfather through the phone. “I know it has been a year and a half since I came home, but I can’t. I’m working,” he reasoned. The nineteen-year-old lad, born and raised in Moscow, had moved to St. Petersburg three years before, leaving his grandfather and mother back home. “I miss you too, dedushka. I miss eating your pirozhki. I promise I’ll visit you and mama when I’m allowed to take a break.” There was a slight hint of sadness in his voice.

He missed his grandfather, who had always been there to cheer him up. He was the breadwinner of their family, so this was the sacrifice he had to make to give them a good life. “Don’t worry, dedushka. I’m not pushing myself too hard. In fact, I’m having fun.” --  _ well, mostly _ ,  _ when I go around killing dirty old men who can’t keep their hands off me _ . “Dedushka, I need to go. They need me on the stage soon. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” Yuri promised, telling his grandfather to send his regards to his mother before he hung up.

There were pros and cons of talking to his grandfather before performing. His grandfather was very supportive of him, which calmed down any stage fright he had before he hit the stage. Unfortunately, it also made him a little homesick, as his grandfather’s health was deteriorating with age. But either way, the show had to go on. If Yuri Plisetsky couldn’t deliver a good show in Club Eros, no one else could.

Being a Prima Ballerina was his mother’s dream. Yuri’s passion had been originally set on figure skating. Dancing ballet was something to help him with his flexibility and graceful movements on the ice, so he had been trained in ballet ever since he could walk.

Yuri would have been swimming in GPF gold medals by now, if it hadn’t been for  his family debt. One day, the mafia had come to his grandfather’s little shop, famous for its mouth-watering pirozhki, and had started threatening to burn it down if they didn’t settle the debt. It turned out that the loan to set up the shop was applied from a small bank which had gone bankrupt, and they owned it to the Nikiforov Bratva.

Dancing ballet wasn’t a bad thing, Yuri supposed. It didn’t give him the sensation of gliding freely on ice, but it was as expressive as figure skating. Besides, he would rather break his bones through the exhaustive practices, rather than performing pole dancing in front of the filthy rich guests of club Eros. He almost forced his ballet shoes down Christophe Giacometti’s throat - the club manager, who was also the Pakhan’s BFF - for ever suggesting he took up pole dancing. Yuri argued (mostly screamed) that he didn’t endure ballet training with the devil woman, Lilia Baranovskaya, just so he could cure impotent middle-aged men who came to the club with pole dancing.

Little did he know that his rendition of ‘The Firebird’  _ did  _ cure some of those impotent middle-aged men.

The day he’d read the headline on a newspaper about world-famous skater Katsuki Yuuri’s disappearance was the day he’d told himself he needed to cut ties with Viktor Nikiforov. It wasn’t so much about doing the right thing and find a better way to earn money, he was fed up. He’d found out that the missing guy was actually in a slump from skating, and Viktor had promised to  _ take Yuuri out of the darkness and into the light _ — Viktor’s own words, not Yuri’s, and he had sworn he had had enough of Viktor’s romanticism. Yuri just couldn’tsee the potential his Boss saw in the  _ piglet _ — Yuri’s nickname for the skater — because there wasn’t any space for two people with the same name in the same vicinity.

Yuri shook his head and limbs to loosen them up. Thinking about Viktor and his new pet always pissed him off. Don’t get him wrong, Yuri was not even a tad bit jealous of Viktor’s obsession with the piglet. He was annoyed that he’d gotten stuck sucking good dicks, then killing the owners of the dick five minutes later. That didn’t help his lonely, virgin ass at all.

Sunday night was always a full house. The casino part of the club was busy with gamblers throwing in their chips in trust of their luck, if not for their supposedly good skills at gambling. Yuri took the centre stage and as the background music played, he immersed himself in the sequence of one of his most notable performances - Agape. He let his body flow like a river - nurturing the purest form of love. Quite ironic, seeing that he was dancing in a club filled with perverts. He didn’t care about the insolent eyes on him, stripping him of his costume, molesting his pure, untainted body. Those eyes disgusted him to the core, until he felt a gaze so electrifying coming from the direction of the bar.

**\- YURI O N ICE –**

“You hear me, Phichit?” Otabek tested his communication device that the Tech Unit had implanted in one of his dress shirt buttons. Otabek stepped out of the limousine he came in with and adjusted the formal wear. Despite how dashing he looked in the tailor-made, three-piece black suit, Otabek would trade it with t-shirt and jeans anytime.

He adjusted the earpiece hidden in his ear as well while waiting for Phichit’s response. When he heard ‘crystal’ from the person on the other side of the line, Otabek strode towards the entrance of Club Eros, immediately greeted by two men double his size. He handed the VVIP membership card fabricated by Phichit and after a few seconds of identity check by one of the hired bouncers, he was granted access into the club.

The club was as exclusive as it could get. Everything looked fancy and expensive, unlike the clubs Otabek preferred to hang out at. He hardly ever went out to have fun anymore, since he was working on mission after mission. A waiter stopped in front of him, offering a glass of champagne. Otabek took it without the intention of taking a sip. All HSA agents were trained to be cautious of the food and beverages they consumed when they were on duty. In some previous cases, it had actually saved them from getting into trouble.

JJ Leroy must have slept during that one lecture because he had been a recurrent sample of the cases mentioned.

Otabek wandered further into the club. His expensive suit made heads turn. It was the usual black-tie-event requirement - black suit with matching waistcoat, silk bow tie and black oxfords - but he looked so damn good. He was definitely on a whole different level of attractive, compared to the other VVIP members. He recognized some of them, though. They were politicians, business tycoons and people from the showbiz world. Thanks to Phichit’s invention, the agent was able to snap a few pictures using the micro camera installed in his watch and sent them to HSA’s database.

“Could any of these people be the Ice Tiger?” Otabek asked once he was positive no one near his surroundings could eavesdrop.

“Hmm…no. These people are hardly capable of killing a fly, let alone a human being.” Phichit was slightly disappointed. They needed more clues. “The Ice Tiger kills his victim in one quick slash to the throat. We’re looking for someone who is fast and precise.”

“I don’t see anyone like that in here.”

Phichit chuckled, finding humour in the situation. “If we could find someone like that so easily, Chief Minako would’ve dragged his ass back here and recruited him, just like when she found you.”

 

Otabek raised an offended brow, even though Phichit wasn’t able to see it. “I didn’t go around slashing people’s throat.” He defended.

“You know what JJ would respond if he heard you say that? ‘Because at that time, you weren’t tall enough to reach it’,” Phichit mimicked the annoying agent’s voice before he started giggling. Almost all the Unit Leaders in HSA were aware of Otabek’s Napoleon Complex. The young man had been caught brooding over it a few times.

“I’m five foot eleven now, Phichit. Stop making fun of me, or I’ll take one of your hamsters hostage.” Otabek didn’t pout, but this was as far as he went at sulking. His height didn’t matter anymore, he was the best agent in HSA, Otabek reminded himself as a motivation. He then changed his focus and dropped the subject.

“Hey, the bar is at a very strategic location in this club. If anyone can see everything that’s happening in here, it’s the bartender. I’m going to say hi for a bit.”

“Roger. I’ll be all ears.”

There was already champagne in his hand, so Otabek walked up to the nearest decorative indoor plant and dumped the liquid from the flute. He made contacts with a few other guests, eye-flirting with the female companions before making his way to the bar. Otabek seated himself on one of the barstools and set his empty champagne flute in front of the bartender.

Based on his clubbing experience, Otabek knew that the bartender was the best person he could dig up information from. A lot of people would drop by at the bar to get a drink or two and have chats with the person behind the counter. The agent carried his conversation normally without being suspicious after ordering another drink he wasn’t going to drink. What mattered was getting as much information as he can. His buddy Phichit would be ready on the other side of the transmitter to take notes.

“You’re in luck today, sir.” The bartender pointed his bearded chin towards the centre stage where the performance of the night had started. “Our Prima Ballerina is performing Agape.”  

Otabek turned on the barstool and faced the stage. “Prima Ballerina?” His eyebrows furrowed. Why would a ballet dancer perform at a casino owned by the mafia? He wanted to asked more, but he had his attention fixed on the graceful body moving on the stage. It clicked with him why the bartender - Emil - said it was his luck. As focused as he was, Otabek couldn’t avert his intense gaze from the dancer who had stirred something deep within him.

“Don’t be fooled by his beauty. People don’t call him the Ice Tiger of Russia for no reason, even though he looks more like a woodland fairy, if you ask me,” Emil spilled as his hands were busy polishing a crystal glass.

“If I had known, I would’ve brought a bouquet with me so I could visit him in his changing room after the show.” -  _ and give him a pat on the back for giving me something to hold against JJ. Ice Tiger? More like Ice Kitten _ .

“Don’t bother, sir,” continued Emil. “His room probably has more flowers than a botanical garden by now. He’ll come out after the show. You can try your luck again by then.”

Waiting was probably a good idea, and Otabek had Emil to thank for that. He didn’t want to appear eager and blow his cover by charging into the target’s room. It wasn’t the wisest action to start a commotion before he could figure anything out of the Ice Tiger.

As the music stopped, the young dancer struck his final pose before taking his bow. He caught Otabek’s intense gaze on him despite the distance between them. The agent caught a glimpse of a shudder coursing through the slim body and Yuri - he’d learned the dancer’s name from the bartender - excused himself from the stage.

It didn’t take long before Otabek witnessed lecherous men crowding around a figure dressed in a white pantsuit like flies around vinegar. It wasn’t fair to compare the young ballet dancer to vinegar, because he looked delectable like the finest honey, especially when he appeared so elegant and sexy at the same time. The jacket was buttoned at mid-torso, leaving the cleavage and stomach slightly exposed. Such fashion didn’t fare well with the Russian winter, which Otabek guessed was the reason for the leopard print faux fur stole around his shoulder and the winter boots covering his feet.

And he was walking like an angry kitten towards Otabek.

His hair was shoulder length, blond and straight. He had one part slid to the side of his head and pinned with a gold scorpion hair clip. His clear green eyes looked like a pair of polished jewel. They were piercing Otabek’s brown eyes with an intense glare. The HSA Agent took a step back as Yuri and his entourage came face-to-face with him.

They hadn’t even gotten to exchange greetings when suddenly a shot was fired. Otabek grabbed Yuri by his arm and took cover behind the bar. He didn’t catch a glimpse of the shooter, but a voice came from the lounge.

“Yuri Plisetsky! Where is my Yuri?!” the shooter, Otabek assumed, demanded. He reached for his gun under the jacket and prepared himself for another gunfire.

“Motherfucker.”

Otabek turned to his side so quickly that his nose bumped against Yuri’s head.  _ Hmm...orange blossom and mint.  _ He found himself loving the scent. Oh fuck, did he just sniff Yuri’s hair?

“You know that guy?” Quickly gathering his composure, Otabek peeked over the counter to identify the shooter.

“Creepy stalker. Been kicked out of the club last month. I’m gonna kill that bastard - wait, I’m gonna kill the dumbass who let that bastard in.”

“Yuriiiii… here kitty, kitty…” The man sounded so close, like he was just over the bar counter.

Otabek instinctively wrapped an arm around Yuri’s waist, having the urge to protect him from the shooter.

 

“On a count of three, run,” he instructed.

Yuri frowned. “What? No, I can handle this.”

“Just do as I say. One, two, three!”

“W—!”

No room for protest, Yuri got up and ran. Otabek was shielding him with his body. A few gunshot were heard, followed by screams and shout of the frightened guests.

“Naughty kitty!” The shooter fired another shot at the pillar the two of them were taking cover behind.

“That fucker!” The blond dancer stepped out of their shelter. “Hey asshole! Over h—“

BANG! BANG!

The bullet nearly hit Yuri, but thanks to Otabek, it missed. The bad news was, they both fell to the floor and it hurt like hell, especially when a big guy like Otabek fell on top of a midget like Yuri.

A sudden realization hit Yuri. Two shots had been fired but only one had been aimed at them. Yuri lifted his face and saw the shooter a few metres away from them, lying face down in a pool of his own blood. Yuri glanced at Otabek on top of him. He was holding a still smoking gun used to shoot the other guy.

Christophe finally decided to appear. “Yuri, honey, you’re playing around too much. Look at all this mess.” He shook his head in disapproval.

“Shut up. Where were you and the security when that sicko started an open fire? Hey you, get off me.” He pushed Otabek off him and scrambled up on his feet. Otabek got up from the floor as well, gun in one hand and the other was pressing his right shoulder.

It took Yuri a few seconds longer to notice that the dark-haired man was bleeding. 

  
  


**\- End of Chapter 2 -**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finalllyyyy chapter two is doneeee....so sorry I didn't get to put Otayuri sexy scenes as promised to [Salmon](https://iamatrashfan.tumblr.com/). I wanted to stretch it longer, so that would be in chapter 3, please look forward to it. 
> 
> And thank you so much for the first part of the [doujin](https://iamatrashfan.tumblr.com/post/166464399968/iamatrashfan-chapter-1-of-kill-me-slowly-with). It was beyond awesome! You're awesome! I love ya!
> 
> And I love all the readers too. Thank you for giving this fic a chance. My English is a little weird, I know. Hope all of you enjoyed reading it anyway!


	3. Kiss the Foe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabek stared. Had no one taught him how to say ‘thank you’? “I’ve just saved your life,” he pointed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4k words of descriptive smut. I'm sorry for the lack of contents, but please enjoy!

******** “Take off your clothes.”

Otabek raised a suspicious brow. It hadn’t even been two minutes since they arrived in Yuri’s studio apartment, and the petite Russian male had ordered him to take off his clothes. Otabek didn’t move, standing like a mannequin in the middle of the living space.

“Don’t think like a pervert. Take your fucking shirt off, so I can take a look at your wound!” Yuri repeated himself, sounding angrier than he was supposed to. He unwrapped the faux fur stole from around his shoulders and threw it onto the sofa, leaving his slim figure more accentuated in the white pantsuit he had on for the other man’s view.

About twenty minutes before, they had still been at Club Eros, where Yuri’s creepy stalker had decided if he couldn’t have Yuri to himself, no one else could. Somehow, this stranger had happened to be there and had saved Yuri from an untimely death. Yuri hadn’t got the chance to ask why he had a gun with him. He hadn’t even checked his membership, because as much as the security there was tight, VVIPs were excused from a full body inspection upon entrance to the club.

Rich people didn’t like being groped by dudes looking like they’d just come out of WWE show.

Otabek finally worked on the buttons of his waistcoat and his dress shirt. The jacket came off with ease along with the waistcoat, then the dress shirt followed suit. The silk bowtie adorning his neck had been removed back when they had still been at the club. To be honest, Otabek had been waiting to get rid of the formal attire he was wearing, not because Yuri had taken him home, but because the clothes just didn’t make him feel like himself.

The ruined suit was laid carefully on the armrest of the sofa. Otabek felt like it was the right thing to do, rather than just drop it down on the thick faux fur carpet under his feet. He glanced towards his right shoulder. The blood had started drying around the wound. It still burned from where the bullet made contact there. Thankfully, he wasn’t seriously wounded. His pride as the best HSA Agent would have hurt more if he had actually got hit by a bullet.

Yuri, who had disappeared into what Otabek assumed was his bathroom, returned with a first-aid kit. His feet stopped midway when he saw the wounded man standing topless in the middle of his living space. Involuntarily, he bit his bottom lips as he scanned Otabek’s chiselled arms and toned body, then past his navel. Damn! He wondered what he looked like below the waist. From the look of it, this man was rather large. There was a hint of dark hair trailing down from his belly button and further under his trousers. If he’d just unbutton it a little…

Fuck! Who was the real pervert here?! Yuri shrugged out of his dirty thoughts and continued towards Otabek. “Sit.” He ordered Otabek onto the sofa as he put down the first-aid kit on the coffee table. He sat next to it while facing Otabek, their closeness making their knees touch.

He inspected the wound on Otabek’s shoulder. A small sigh of relief escaped his lips once he confirmed the slight injury. The bullet had only grazed Otabek’s shoulder and the bleeding seemed to have stopped.

“This will sting a little,” he warned as he dabbed a piece of cotton doused in antiseptic onto the area of the wound. Otabek jerked so slightly at the contact, but remained stoic. “This wouldn’t have happened if you had kept out of my business like I told you to,” said the blond, while his hands proceeded into applying ointment and a patch over the injury.

Otabek stared. Had no one taught him how to say ‘thank you’? “I’ve just saved your life,” he pointed out.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I had it under control.”

The agent snorted. “Try getting a bullet through your brain and say that again.”

“If you hadn’t pulled me down with you, I would have had the guy before he could have 

done more damage!”

“If I hadn’t pulled you down with me, you’d be in feline heaven by now.”

Yuri gasped. “What did you say? You don’t fucking know who I am!”

“Don’t I, Ice Tiger of Russia?”

Simultaneously, weapons were drawn and aimed at each other within a split second. Otabek had his gun pointed under Yuri’s chin, while the smaller man had a knife ready to slice the agent’s throat. Neither of them moved nor said any word, but their eyes were staring intensely into each other’s. They stayed like that for what seemed to be a full minute, then Otabek withdrew his gun first, sliding it onto the table. Yuri kept his knife close to the man’s throat. When Otabek smirked and his adam’s apple bobbed, the steel blade sliced his skin a little.

“Go ahead, kill me,” he challenged. “Slit my throat and watch me die so you can go through my belongings and check my identity.”

Yuri was tempted to do as he said, but he kept his grip tight on his knife and glared angrily at the man in front of him.

“Or, you can put away your knife and you can hear all about me from my own mouth.”

That sounded like a better option. No, it was definitely a better option. It would be such a waste to kill this person now. He didn’t even know his name. Even if he could find out later, he was curious on how the name sounded like, coming from the man’s tip of the tongue.

Before Yuri could even move his hand away, Otabek grabbed his wrist gently, and took the knife without even having to force it out of Yuri’s grip. It pissed him off that Otabek was able to manipulate him into lowering his guard and worse, making his heart thump furiously inside his chest.

“Let go of me!” Yuri decided anger was his best defence. So, he channelled the wrath within him towards the man.

Otabek gripped Yuri’s wrists in both of his hands. “You have girly hands, even though your eyes look like a soldier’s.”

“I AM NOT GIRLY!” Twisting his wrists from the bigger man’s grasp, Yuri slapped them away and climbed onto his lap. Despite Otabek’s remark about having feminine-looking hands, Yuri had enough strength to strangle him, which he took the liberty to do, to show to Otabek just how capable he was.

“Before I strangle you to death, tell me who you are!”

The HSA Agent glared menacingly, not affected by the choking even when Yuri applied more pressure to it. For someone his size, the blond male was quite strong, but Otabek wasn’t going to sit there quietly. With one swift move, he reversed their positions, pinning Yuri against the backrest of the sofa. His arms twisted to the back, Otabek’s knee was between his legs, and he reached for the scorpion hairclip holding Yuri’s hair at the back of his head.

“Special Agent Otabek Altin. Remember that in your pretty little head,” Otabek murmured close to Yuri’s ear, his free hand pulled the hairclip from his hair, and the soft gold locks fell out of its arrangement.

The shiver from listening to Otabek whispering his name in his ears tingled down Yuri’s spine. No one had ever talked like that to him. Of course, no one had ever lived long after being in close proximity to him, and Yuri found himself wanting to hear more. But he wasn’t going to let Otabek boss him around.

Using his smaller body to his advantage, the Ice Tiger managed to slip out of Otabek’s grip and pushed the dark-haired agent onto the sofa. Yuri straddled him once again, one palm against Otabek’s chest and the other on his wounded shoulder. It was a dirty method, he knew, but hell, he was working for the mafia, who cared about fighting fair?

But Otabek was trained to handle pain. A little pressure on a bullet graze was nothing. He pulled himself upwards, both hands reaching for the sides of his Yuri’s face, and he did what he never had done to any of his opponents before.

He kissed him.

And Yuri kissed him back. Although in the beginning he was taken aback by the sudden action, they both indulged in the kiss. Otabek tangled his fingers in Yuri’s hair, gripping the locks hard, but not hard enough to hurt the other male. Yuri’s hands were still in place, but a few seconds later, the one on the patched wound joined the other on Otabek’s broad chest.

And he’d be damned if that chest didn’t feel amazing under his touch. He couldn’t decide whether he should focus on the warm skin against his palms or the heated kiss bruising his mouth. Yuri decided to focus on the kiss. Wait, he changed his mind. It wasn’t a kiss. It was a battle of lips, tongues and teeth. The moment he opened his mouth, Otabek had slid his tongue in, taking every taste he could get from the younger male. Yuri didn’t hold back either. Whenever he got the chance, he nipped and tugged at Otabek’s bottom lip, bruising it just the way Otabek had done to him.

The kiss went on for so long, their lips started to hurt. Otabek had a slight cut from being bitten by the kit—tiger on his lap. His fingers left Yuri’s hair and made their way down to his slim waist, then further down to his hips. Without breaking the kiss, Otabek stood up from the sofa, lifting the blond dancer along with ease. Yuri wrapped his legs around Otabek’s waist without needing to be told.

He walked around the coffee table with Yuri tangled around his torso. Their tongues were touching, teasing each other’s mouth. It was a short trip to the bed. Instead of laying Yuri down gently, Otabek threw him down onto the bed so hard that his slim body bounced on the plush mattress.

“Fuck you—” the blond spat, but didn’t get to finish his sentence when he saw the fierce look on Otabek’s handsome face. A deep flush dusted his fair cheeks as his gaze was fixed on the other man. Otabek had his belt unbuckled and his zipper pulled down, giving Yuri what he had wished for — an exclusive view of the happy trail he had imagined earlier.

“Like what you see?”

Yuri swallowed the lump in his throat. He liked it. Very much. But what he liked the most was the look Otabek was giving him. He was about to experience his first angry sex ever, or sex in general.

Otabek didn’t know what had come over him. First, he had kissed the man he wasn’t supposed to, his enemy. Then, he had taken a step further by moving them to the bed, with all the intentions to go beyond kissing. Anger enveloped him, though, he wasn’t sure whether he was more angry at Yuri or at himself.

Probably more at himself, because he had been having those crazy ideas on what he wanted to do to the Ice Kitten since they had set eyes on each other at the club — things that involved ripping his fancy suit off and mess him up from the inside out.

Without taking his eyes off of his enemy, Otabek moved further onto the bed and reached to touch Yuri. It wasn’t a total surprise when he slapped Otabek’s hand away and glared at him just as fiercely. He got onto his knees, buried his long, slim, polished fingers into Otabek’s short, black hair and pulled him down to share a fervent kiss.

It wasn’t until the same polished fingers proceeded to wrap around his hard prick that Otabek growled and shoved Yuri back down onto the bed. This time he did rip the button of Yuri’s suit, making the golden object fly and hit randomly at the wall before it landed on the floor somewhere.

“Savage,” Yuri said amusedly as he gasped for air.

His lips were moist and red, deliciously bruised from the hungry kisses. His chest, now exposed, rose and fell as his lungs took in as much oxygen as he could. His pink nipples were hard and pointy, begging to be sucked.

It looked sexy as hell and Otabek didn’t wait a second longer to tear the trousers away from him as well.

“Lift your ass,” Otabek instructed, hands already latching on the waistband.

Yuri didn’t protest and did as asked. He wanted them off just as much as he wanted the same for Otabek slacks.

It wasn’t just the white slacks that came off, Otabek pulled Yuri’s underwear with it as well. He would have been totally nude, if not for the jacket that was already hanging off one of his shoulders.

Otabek crawled over the slim body, only to be stopped by Yuri’s hands again. “Yours, off!” Yuri raised his knee up and pressed on Otabek’s still clothed crotch.

He tsked while climbing off the bed, and discarded his slacks, freeing that extra large prick which Yuri had the chance to touch earlier. That gave Yuri enough time to shed his jacket and throw it onto the floor to join Otabek’s last piece of clothing.

When their skin touched, Yuri felt as if he was going to melt. Otabek continued basking in his warmth, touching and worshipping the flawless skin with his big, rough hands. Yuri propped himself on his elbow, latching onto Otabek’s jaw, kissing a line downwards to the cut he had made using his knife earlier. He suckled there, tasting salty skin mixed slightly with iron from the cut.

He moaned when Otabek’s nimble fingers brushed his perky nubs. The quick distraction allowed Otabek to take one nipple into his mouth and suckle it hard.

“Ahh!! Ota...be…nnh...Be-beka!!”

Oh, cute. Otabek liked the little pet name Yuri called him. No one had called him ‘Beka’ before, not even during sex.

Otabek had had his share of adult fun times previously, but not too frequently. It wasn’t like he had any troubles getting people into his bed, rather, he preferred them not to come to his bed. So far, he’d only had a handful of one-night-stands in different cities. He’d cut them off once his mission was over.

“Oh fuck, Beka!” Yuri cried again. Otabek’s teeth clamping down on his other nipple was the cause.

Yuri’s small hands reached up for Otabek’s head, tugging on his black hair again. He wasn’t pulling him away at all. Instead, he was pressing him closer to his chest.  That was when Otabek decided to savour every inch of Yuri’s flushing skin. He dragged his tongue from the middle of Yuri’s chest up to his throat, and stopped to leave a few marks there by brutally sucking and biting like he was punishing him for having such flawless skin. He moved to the side of the neck next, giving the same vicious treatment, before he found one earring loop on Yuri’s ear and pulled it off between his teeth.

“AAHHHH!!!”Yuri cried out in pain. He could feel blood forming on his earlobe, but he was sure it wasn’t torn.

After the pain subsided, came the pleasure. Otabek’s tongue darted out, tracing the line of Yuri’s earlobe. The blond male voluntarily tilted his head to the side, sighing sweetly from the sensation. His hand gripped Otabek’s arm, scraping his manicured nails up and down the man’s hard biceps. Everything about this man was hard. His limbs, his jaw, his abs and… his cock.

“Oh god, that… that thing is huge.” Yuri lifted his head to give appraisal and dropped it back onto the pillow.

“What thing? This?” Otabek rubbed himself against Yuri.

He gasped. “F-fuck! Stop! Wait, don’t stop!”

“Don’t be so contradicting. Do you want it, or do you want me to stop?”

“I’ll kill you if you stop!”

Otabek let out a low chuckle and rubbed himself against Yuri’s aroused prick again. The smaller male bit back a moan. He’d never been in this situation before, all the stimulation was beginning to make him lose his mind.

“God, I want it. I want it inside me so fucking bad!”

That stroke Otabek’s ego real good. “You can say that again.”

“Cocky bastard.”

“Cocky indeed.”

Not waiting for another response, Otabek grabbed Yuri’s thighs and spread them apart. He was positioned between his legs, rubbing his incredibly hard cock where it left Yuri wanting more. He was wet, but not wet enough for Otabek to slide easily into that small hole. He wasn’t sure of the younger male’s sexual experience, but as much as he was enjoying their rough sex, he wasn’t planning to rip him apart.

Now he truly regretted not taking the condom Phichit had offered.

“Damn!” He cursed. Pre-lubricated condoms were what he needed right now.

Just another reason for him to be upset, but he was soon distracted by slim fingers suddenly wrapping around his engorged dick. Otabek looked up, and if he wasn’t already fully erect, that would have just made him.

Propped on his elbow, Yuri had reached between his legs and had grabbed Otabek’s shaft in his hand. He was licking his swollen lips, his eyes heavy with lust as he stroked the man’s veiny length slowly. When his elbow was losing its strength, he sought support from Otabek’s arm, raking his fingernails up the hard muscles and dug in further as they found his broad shoulder. All that took place while his other hand was languidly caressing Otabek’s rigid sex.

Fuck the lube! Otabek shoved the petite body onto the mattress, belly down. His rough hand grabbed a handful of Yuri’s hair and pressed his head onto the pillows. He was rubbing himself in between the crevice of the nice, round buttocks, smearing his precome as he went. Yuri’s small shoulder enticed him to leave marks there, so he did, not with hickeys, but with teeth marks.

It sent shivers all over Yuri’s body. The rough way Otabek was gripping his hair really turned him on. He even pushed his hips upwards so he could feel more friction against Otabek’s cock. The fierce bites on his shoulders made him hiss, but not without pleasure.

“Nnhhh, Beka…” He rasped.

“Hmm..”

“Want…need…”

“Not yet.”

“Fuck!” The damned torture was sweet, but Yuri wanted more. He was aching for this man. “Lube, in the drawer.” Suddenly, he had remembered his own private stash.

That was just what Otabek needed, though they would have gone further sooner if Yuri had mentioned it earlier.

Releasing his grip from the gold locks, Otabek moved to the side of the bed and pulled the nightstand drawer out. The first thing that caught his eyes wasn’t the lube, but a long, beaded stick next to it.  _ So that was the lube was for _ , he composed the thought in his head. He shrugged, grabbed the half-empty bottle and turned back to the centre of the? bed, only to find the Ice Kitten had already made himself comfortable with pillows behind his back and legs spread out while finger-fucking himself.

Otabek’s balls tightened and his cock twitched to the extend it started to hurt a little. He didn’t touch Yuri immediately. Instead, he flipped open the lid of the bottle and poured a good amount of lube onto his hands. While Yuri immersed himself in debauchery, Otabek prepared himself to invade what he positively believed a super tight channel.

No words were exchanged as Otabek moved forward between Yuri’s legs and positioned himself right in the centre. He grabbed the lube again and poured it down Yuri’s fingers that were still spreading his hole. They were still at it when Otabek lined his prick at the entrance, and with one push, Yuri’s jaw dropped, unable to form any words but the sweetest moan Otabek had ever heard.

And what he liked most was the fact that Yuri’s hands were on his inner thighs, keeping his legs in position while his jewel eyes locked on their intimate union.

“Oh, fuck!” Yuri gasped, watching Otabek slid himself further into his no-longer-virgin asshole. “Oh fuck… Oh fuck!” Profanities spilled from his mouth as his head lolled backwards, taking in the biggest cock he’d ever seen in his entire nineteen years of life.

Otabek didn’t comment on how narrow Yuri was. He was clenching his teeth, holding himself back from ploughing hard into the incredible warmth. Could it be Yuri was a virgin, or had he always been this tight? He’d thought of asking, but at the moment he was lost in the pleasure of being buried to the hilt inside the beautiful body of Yuri Plisetsky.

His dildo could never compare to having Otabek’s thick girth inside of him. He wasn’t even going to complain on the length, on how deep he was taking Otabek. Damn! He swore he could even feel the shape of the broad head and veins against his soft walls. He was thoroughly filled by this man who called himself Special Agent Otabek Altin.

“Yuri—“ For the first time, Otabek called his name, but was quickly corrected by its owner.

“Yura. Call me Yura.”

Otabek nodded. “Yura, I’m going to move.”

“Yes! Oh yes!”

A slight smirk showed on his face as Otabek withdrew himself out and plunged into Yuri again. He had never heard a scream so loud and so beautiful at the same time. He did it again, feeling the small body tremble at the intense pleasure, and Yuri started spewing gibberish that he couldn’t understand.

“Oh..Oohhh Beka…Nghhh, so goo—oh! Fuck, that’s—Ahh!”

“”Feeling…nnh… good?”

“Nggh, ye…ah! God, do that again.”

Otabek aimed for Yuri’s spot he had found earlier. “This?”

“Oh Fu—AHHH!! NGHHHH!!”

Oh, Otabek felt the twitch around his cock when he did that to Yuri. It looked like Yuri would come just from Otabek fucking his ass. He picked up his pace, rammed into the hungry hole over and over while his heavy balls slammed against Yuri’s supple buttocks. The sound from their skin slapping echoed throughout the studio apartment.

Yuri’s hands once again found Otabek muscled limbs, his fingernails raked the tanned skin, leaving scratch marks as he went. He occasionally peeked between his legs, where Otabek was taking him like a wild beast, and Yuri could feel his orgasm building.

“B-beka, I’m c-come… coming—AHHH!!” His warning came a little too late as he shot out stringy white liquid all over his stomach. Some of it spilled onto Otabek’s torso, but that was the least of Yuri’s concern as he laid there, riding the waves of pleasure, clenching and twitching around Otabek’s cock.

But Otabek was far from done. Taking advantage of Yuri’s orgasm, he ploughed into the channel – tight and wet and hot – until his body shook in a violent tremor as he emptied his desires inside Yuri.

“Holy shit!” Otabek couldn’t believe he was the one swearing this time.

“You can…say that again,” the smaller man panted, thoroughly sated and filled. But he was starting to get addicted to the bliss Otabek had given him, so he wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him down to whisper, “Take me again, break me over and over until there is nothing left of me, Special Agent Otabek Altin.”

Otabek was still fully buried inside Yuri when they began their second round.

**– YURI O N ICE –**

“So I took your maidenhead?”

Yuri chuckled at Otabek’s use of word.  _ Maidenhead _ . Right, as if he were some sheltered girl during the Victorian era. He may have just been deflowered by the other guy, but Yuri wasn’t totally innocent.

They weren’t exactly cuddling, but Yuri was resting on top of Otabek, drawing circles on the agent’s pecs after god knew how many times they indulged in carnal pleasures. It was the first time for Otabek as it was for Yuri, in terms of having a pillow talk after steamy make out sessions. Normally he would just up and leave, but regardless of the nature of their relationship, Otabek had stayed.

“I sucked dicks before, but none as nice as yours,” he said bluntly. “But of course, they had to go after that. It’s a pity, but scum like them should rot in hell. At least I gave them a taste of heaven before they kicked the bucket.”

“So that’s how they died.” A sudden revelation downed upon him. Based on the reports, those business tycoons ended up dead even though they had multiple bodyguards around them. The only time the bodyguards were dismissed was when they were alone with Yuri “Ice Tiger” Plisetsky, so there was no point in hiring any at all.

He recalled the body counts. There had been more than fifteen in the past three years. “You gave them  _ all _ blowjobs?” his thick brows furrowed.

“NO!” Yuri rolled his eyes. “I have standards, you know. Do you know many good-looking millionaires under forty out there? I wouldn’t have waited for three years after legal age to have my ass thoroughly fucked if there had been someone who fit the description. Consider yourself lucky.”

“So you’re doing it for money?”

Yuri glared at the brown eyes studying him. “Killing those assholes? Yes. And I’ll do it again.”

“Why? I saw you dance. You can be a professional and make decent money.”

Yuri’s finger on Otabek’s pecs stopped moving. He’d wanted to be a professional figure skater. It was his dream. Everything had come tumbling down when he was dragged into the mafia world to pay back the debt his grandfather’s shop owed. But after he’d learned the truth behind the Nikiforov’s family motives, he hadn’t regretted killing those people. Although, that didn’t mean he didn’t want to stop.

“Just like how you have your reasons to serve in the HSA, I have my reasons to work for the bratva.”

“Regardless of how many laws you break?”

Yuri got up from Otabek’s chest and straddled his hips. “Tell me, Special Agent Otabek Altin. How many people have you killed with this hand?” He lifted Otabek’s hand and brought it to his lips. “We’re similar, we both kill people, except I don’t have a license to kill like you do. But if there were any justice in this world, people like those scumbags would never exist at all. They stole all the poor people’s money and land, and they built their own empire using it. At least I was doing the underdogs a favour. Now, we could have this conversation all night or you could give me a  _ very _ good reason to not kill you.” He paused, took Otabek’s middle finger in his mouth and sucked it hard.

Otabek didn’t need to be told twice what had to be done. He wondered, when the morning came, would they still be enemies or would they have progressed into lovers? In that moment, he realized something. He wanted Yuri Plisetsky, not for the sake of the mission, but for himself. He must convince Yuri to leave the mafia.

To do that, he’d have to make the Ice Tiger fall in love with him.

**– End of Chapter 3 –**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone noticed, I used 'Special' Agent instead of 'Secret' Agent. The reason for this was because I think HSA is not so much of a secret agency. Much like FBI or CIA (but its a secret agent AU! please forgive me). 
> 
> I received a HUGE help from [Dismalsheen](https://dismalsheen.tumblr.com/) who checked my grammar and contents. If you think this chapter is written much better than previously, it's all thanks to her.
> 
> Andddd, for [Salmon](https://iamatrashfan.tumblr.com/) who I think is a little bit down right now. I hope this chapter will cheer her up.
> 
> Also to all the readers, thank you for the kudos and comments. I will be taking a short break before I start writing chapter 4, please enjoy this chapter for now. If you have any questions, please leave them in the comments so I can answer them directly rather than writing a long explanation in this end note. 
> 
> See you next chapter!


	4. Two Sides of the Same Coin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Those people are not me. I don’t fail.” He grabbed the blond’s chin and lifted it up so their eyes met. “This is the end of the bratva, Yura. I don’t want you to be caught up in it.”

**Chapter 4: Two Sides of the Same Coin**

Yuri woke up to the smell of toast and butter. He crawled out of the duvet cocoon he had wrapped around himself and groggily sat up on the bed. His body was a little sore, but he could still feel the tingle up his spine from last night’s events. He shuddered at the lingering pleasure between his legs and blushed when he saw a topless figure standing in his small kitchen. The only thing that kept the guy from nudity was his black boxer briefs, tightly hugging his muscled thighs and buttocks. Yuri blushed again when he saw the front. Otabek might as well go nude.

“What, you’re still hungry?” Otabek was talking, but not to Yuri. He bent down and picked up a bundle of fur and held it close to his chest. Yuri’s cat, Puma Tiger Scorpion – Potya for short – meowed at Otabek and Yuri watched them with slight amusement. Potya was not fond of strangers. Not that Yuri always brought people home, but he knew his cat was as stuck up as he was with most people. It appeared that Potya had approved of Otabek.

“Good morning.” Otabek turned and was pleased to see Yuri was up and having a hard time taking his eyes off of him. Otabek walked towards the bed and set Potya down before pressing his lips against Yuri’s for a morning kiss. “I figured you’d be hungry, so I made breakfast.”

“What did you make?”

“Toasts.”

“That’s all?” Yuri raised a brow, unimpressed.

“You don’t really have much in your kitchen.”

“Hmm…I want meat…” Yuri’s small hand reached between Otabek’s legs and rubbed his bulge. He looked at the older male and licked his lips.

Otabek groaned. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t stay for long. He still had a mission to complete and had to figure out where Yuri stood on that matter. First things first, he needed to keep Yuri’s hand off his crotch and get him to eat breakfast, then talk. Otabek had never exchanged words with the enemies. Normally Chief Minako was the one doing all the negotiations. But knowing how and why Yuri was in the mafia business, Otabek thought he had a chance, if the night before was any indication that the two of them had a lot of chemistry.

Otabek reluctantly removed Yuri’s hand away from him but sealed his mouth with a teasing kiss instead. That way he was given more control of the situation and Yuri obviously welcomed it. His tongue lazily caressed Yuri’s hard palate while his hands started roaming all over the small of the blond’s back. It felt so damn good that Otabek told himself if he kept things at that pace, they’d be having morning sex instead of breakfast.

Not that he hated the idea, but he had two missions to focus on. One, shutting down the Nikiforov Family and two, getting Yuri out of the bratva before that actually happened.

“The toasts are getting cold.” He finally pulled away from the kiss, leaving Yuri sighing. The pout was not left unnoticed. “Come eat your breakfast. We have something to talk about,” Otabek said with more resolve despite still deliberating on how to approach the subject playing at the back of his mind.

Yuri moved his legs and let them dangle on the side of the bed while Otabek reached down on the floor for his shirt for Yuri to wear. As much as Otabek wanted to justify that Yuri’s clothes from last night were done for, he needed his ego stroked by seeing the kitten dressed in his too big of a shirt. The small patch of blood and rip from the bullet graze werea foul sight, alas, but the sight of Yuri drowned in the massive shirt stirred heat in his groin.

Yuri lazily made his way to the small dining table set beside his mini kitchen. “What else is there to talk about?” he asked while picking up the nicely browned toast topped with a sunny side up and took a bite from a corner. The yolk burst as a loud crunch echoed in his small studio apartment. 

Otabek reached forward and wiped the dripping egg from the corner or Yuri’s mouth with his thumb. The unsuspecting Russian blushed when the guy he had submitted to last night had no qualms sucking in the trace of food into his own mouth. Memories from hours ago came flooding at the erotic gesture. Yuri was glad the chair was there to catch him as his legs wobbled and ceased to function. 

The same pair of legs that had shamelessly wrapped around the male sitting opposite of him while Yuri begged for more.

“You know why I’m here, don’t you?” Otabek broke the brief silence. He let his serving of toast and coffee cool down as he straightened up and focus on the topic he broached.

“Other than screwing me into the mattress?” Yuri’s words came out playful, but some seriousness was offered in his tone and expression. 

The older male grabbed Yuri’s small hand when he reached for butter. Otabek kept his determined gaze on him.

“Nikiforov Bratva has to go,” he said bluntly. “And it has to go immediately. I don’t want you anywhere near it from now on,” he dictated.

Yuri scoffed and pulled his hand away from the firm grasp. “I’m not just ‘near’ it. I’m ‘in’ it as much as I am responsible for keeping people like you from shutting it down. How many times do you think others have tried? None of them ever succeeded.” Yuri got up and walked to the cabinet where he stored breakfast cereal. He craved for something sweet now that the conversation had taken a bitter turn.

Otabek was quick to follow him. The agent was there when Yuri turned around and found himself trapped between a hard, muscular body and the kitchen counter.

“Those people are not me. I don’t fail.” He grabbed the blond’s chin and lifted it up so their eyes met. “This is the end of the bratva, Yura. I don’t want you to be caught up in it.”

“Oh yeah? Then where the hell should I be?” Yuri challenged.

“Anywhere far from them.”

Something hurtful twinged in the blond’s heart. He had hoped Otabek would demand him to stay with him,but the guy only wanted Yuri out of the bratva, possibly out of his way as to not be a hindrance during the wipe-out mission.

Gritting his teeth and glaring back at the pair of dark eyes in front of him, Yuri spat back; “Why would I do that? Why would I do something only because a guy I just met told me, and abandon what has been my family for the last three years? Just because you fucked good, doesn’t mean you’re good for me.”

A flash of anger flickered in Otabek’s eyes. He pressed his body forward against Yuri’s, hands moved behind him to hoist his plush buttocks up and settled them against the smooth marble surface. 

“Tell me you don’t believe that.” Otabek’s voice was laced with danger. “Tell me that last night was more than fucking. Last night was us ma—”

“Making love?” Yuri interrupted with a scoff. “Just because I sweetly offered my virgin ass on a buffet spread to you, doesn’t mean I’m going to kiss your feet and roll over when you bark orders! No shit man! I may have enjoyed every second of it, god help me, I fucking did, but that doesn’t change who I am. If you want to knock on the impending death’s door, be my guest. I’ll be the grim reaper who will deliver your soul to purgatory.”

 

**~ yuri o n ice ~**

 

Left step, punch, right step, kick, repeat. Double punch, left kick, right kick, repeat.

The punching bag in front of Otabek suffered from his pent up frustration after he left Yuri Plisetsky’s studio apartment that morning. God, he was fuming. As much as he wanted to throw Yuri down on the bed and fuck him senseless until he couldn’t walk for days, unable to return to his mafia family, he knew that wasn’t the right way to get to his heart. And damn Otabek if he didn’t want Yuri “Ice Tiger” Plisetsky’s wild heart. He wished to rip open the beautiful boy’s chest and make his way into his heart to reside there — forever.

But no. Yuri Plisetsky preferred to claw at his budding affection and rip it to shreds with his cute little fangs. 

With one swift punch, Otabek sent the heavy punching bag swinging. He grabbed his towel and wiped his sweat-drenched face, then took gulps of water straight from his water bottle to keep himself hydrated. His phone rang and Otabek picked it up after glancing quickly at the caller ID.

“What?!” He said as soon as the phone was pressed against his ear.

“Chill, dude,” a cheerful, friendly voice reached him from the other side. “Haven’t you been blowing off your steam this whole morning after you left the kitten’s place?” Phichit inquired, the only person fully aware of Otabek’s affairs.

“Fuck!” Otabek cursed. “I should’ve burned that shirt.”

“Haha, I bet all the blood in your brain went south and you couldn’t even think properly last night.”

“How much did you hear?” Otabek sighed warily.

“You mean how much did I hear you banging the kid or how much of your love making session was recorded?” Phichit’s teasing smiled  could almost be heard over the phone.

“The specifics, Phichit.”

“Enough to know that your sex drive is scary.”

Otabek almost threw his phone against the wall. “You heard everything?”

“Define ‘everything’.” 

“Phichit!” 

“Yes! What do you think? It’s my job. You didn’t report your finding after you left the club, and I’m the next best guy they can count on for details if you somehow end up as a kitten food.” Phichit justified his action that he was merely being professional and wasn’t actually listening to HSA’s best agent and Russian Ice Tiger’s audio porn. 

More strings of quiet curses escaped from Otabek’s mouth. As HSA’s top agent, he had made a mistake. Sleeping with the enemy wasn’t it, but failing to report his status after a mission was.

The agent found a bench in the gym and sat down. “Sorry, Phichit. I screwed up last night.” Otabek sighed, his hand rose to his forehead where his thumb and index finger worked at pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do me a favour, will you? Don’t release the audio recording. I’ll write a full report when this shit is done. Please.”

It was hard for him to owe people favours. He liked to think he was more than competent in everything that he did. But why had his competency as well as his whole being — his heart, especially — turned into a mess after he met Yuri Plisetsky? He didn’t have an answer to that. He wasn’t blaming the young Russian, he was more dignified than that. He still hadn’t come to terms that he’d let his guard down for l-love. God. He was in love. He wouldn’t — couldn’t — deny that. It was stupid and ridiculous, but love often was. But that didn’t mean Otabek could let himself be stupid and ridiculous just because he was irrevocably in love. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he did.

“You know you can rely on me for anything, bro,” Phichit’s voice pulled him back to the present. “But if you ask me, you didn’t screw up. You just saved your little kitten’s ass,” Phichit told him as his fingers danced along the computer keyboard. “I did some background research on the bratva’s business while you two were busy last night. Most of their income was generated from the repossession of lands and shares from big corporations. And guess what. Those people allegedly sent to death by your kitten’s claws were the landlords and business owners.”

“How is that helping Yura?” From the sound of it, those were pretty good proof of a crime executed by Yuri on behalf of Nikiforov.

Phichit disclosed the information he found. Otabek’s back straightened as he listened intently to his colleague’s findings. It was just like what Yuri had told him last night, that the people he’d killed were scumbags — the lands and the fortune those people had made didn’t belong to them. Nikiforov Bratva appeared to have taken it out of their possessions — legally — either from acquiring the majority of their companies’ stocks and shares or find loopholes in the purchasing of the lands. And killing the perpetrators had only come necessary when they’d decided to complicate matters. The less people like them existed in the world, the better. 

Listening to facts from Phichit undoubtedly cemented Otabek’s faith that his ice-cold lover was worth the fight. “They are still criminals,” Otabek contradicted his conscience. He did it to keep himself from being biased. “Just because they’re the equivalent of modern-day Robin Hood doesn’t make them less of a mafia.” 

He knew what Nikiforov had done after he’d acquired all those fortunes. That enigma of a man had developed the lands for the victims of the scumbags so they could live a better life. The Russian Oligarch had fired almost ninety percent of the personnel in the corporations he’d repossessed,  re-hiring competent, highly qualified new staff who came from the families of the victims. 

HSA needed to tackle this situation carefully. The downfall of the Nikiforov family might evoke the wrath of the civilians who worshipped them like God. They might end up seeing housewives, old people and even children standing guard in front of the Nikiforov mansion, protecting it with their lives instead of blood thirsty hounds. 

The keyboard tapping stopped following Phichit’s reply. “No, but Otabek, think. The only reason we’re not on their side is because of the mandate we have. I’m not saying I support Nikiforov Bratva, but if I were one of those people living on his turf, I’d sacrifice my firstborn for him. He helped those people. He’s the good guy in their eyes. Us, not so much.”

“So you’re saying we’re wiping out the good guys and we’re the actual assholes?”

“Darn it! I hate it when chief skips on the task briefing.”

“What? Phichit?”

“We’re not wiping out the bratva because of what they do to the scumbags. It’s the head we’re after. Viktor Nikiforov is sick.”

Otabek scrunched his face in confusion. “All the people we busted are sick. What makes him different?” 

Phichit started tapping on his keyboard again. “Remember the Japanese ice skater who went missing?” he asked as the monitor in front of him showed various articles of the missing sportsman. Otabek gave a noncommittal hum, which Phichit took as a sign for him to continue. “There’s a rumour that he was taken by Nikiforov. And based on what Yuri Plisetsky told you last night, we have reasons to believe he’s involved in sex trade and human trafficking.”

“What—  which part of my conversation with Yura makes you conclude this?” 

“Dude, your kitten works in a club. He lures people to his dressing room and kills them. I’m not saying he’s a rent boy, but he wasn’t sucking lollipops in the backroom with those guys, was he? If that doesn’t sound like a legit proof to you, I don’t know what does.” Carefully threading the subject, Phichit tried not to put himself on Otabek’s bad side. “And I’m not the one making assumptions. It’s there in the file, which, I believe Chief Minako skipped because things went haywire after JJ went MIA. But my advice to you is, if you want to save your kitten before the shit hits the fan with the bratva, there is still a chance.”

For an IT guy who mostly had interactions with electronic gadgets and hamsters, Phichit gave sound advice. Chances for Yuri to walk out clean if he got busted along with the members of the mafia family were slim to none. But if Otabek managed to convince him to leave now, he could keep Yuri out of trouble and, most importantly, safe by his side.

 

**~ yuri o n ice ~**

 

Yuri poked at the stranger’s stubbled jaw offensively with his finger. What he heard from Mila Babicheva — his annoying comrade/big sister/problem listener in the bratva — about the guy was that he was a Canadian, engaged to be married, and big-time narcissistic. That explained why no one had claimed the sonofabitch even after being their captive for almost two weeks. Probably they were as sick of him as Yuri was since he first saw him disguising as a pizza guy. Seriously, they had a private chef working there, why would anyone order pizza? 

It pissed him off to know that the guy was from the same organization who’d sent Otabek. Fuck him and his prowess. Now every other man Yuri saw would be beneath a bug in his eyes. Otabek Altin had ruined other men for him. It was too soon to start celibacy at nineteen after a passionate night together with the insanely hot agent — an amazing night that turned shitty the morning after when he was left alone in the kitchen dressed in an oversized shirt smelling like Otabek and sex. 

“Wake up, you fucker!” Yuri planted his small fist hard against JJ’s rough cheek, fueled by anger and frustration towards Otabek. 

Shocked at being awaken suddenly, JJ dramatically rolled off the bed and fell onto the floor. He scrambled up to his feet as his flight reflex kicked in only to realize that he was still in confinement under the watchful eyes of the Ice Tiger.

“Sit down, shithead, I have things to ask you,” Yuri commanded as he turned a chair and straddled it backwards. “I need you to tell me everything you know about Otabek Altin.” 

“Not telling.” JJ sat down, but crossed his arms to his chest and pouted like a five-year old kid. It wasn’t cute at all.

“Let me rephrase that.” The young blond took out a shiny hunter’s knife and touched the sharp point to his forefinger, looking like he was done with JJ’s shit. A droplet of blood seeped out of his pricked skin and Yuri licked it off before pointing the knife between JJ’s eyes. “Either you tell me everything you know about him, or I’ll cut you up piece by piece for every time you refuse. I’ll give you a heads-up; it’s going to hurt  _ a lot _ .”

 

**~ yuri o n ice ~**

 

Yuuri laid exhausted in the sea of Egyptian cotton bedsheet. His chest moved following the rhythm of his breath intake. The only other time he was ever gasping for air was after he had performed his programmes and took a bow in front of thousands of spectators. He had forgotten what adrenaline felt like as his body moved fluidly on ice and soared in the air, jumping so high. Until he’d met Viktor.

“Didn’t I tell you that you have a good stamina? How many rounds was that?” Viktor’s sultry voice invaded his ears, making Yuuri shiver down to his spine. It didn’t help at all that the older man was tracing his fingers along Yuuri’s inner thighs, dangerously close to his uncovered and overly stimulated dick. Viktor was right about his stamina. He’d come so many times during their multiple rounds of dirty, hot coupling sessions and a few more times when Viktor had teased him with his hands and fingers. 

“Y-you were the one doing all the w-work. I just lay here and t-took it,” he said, feeling as shy as he always did after having an intercourse with the the oligarch. 

Viktor pulled Yuuri close and nuzzled his neck. Yuuri let out a squeak as his bare ass was pressed flush against Viktor’s front, eliciting a seductive chuckle from the Russian. “Don’t get me wrong, sweetheart. All that screaming and bending I made you do were not something anyone could perform. If I remember correctly, you were doing an excellent job at moving your hips up and down my c—”

“ Виктор Никифоров!!!” 

The door to the vast suite slammed open, revealing an angry blond kitten who went by the name of Yuri Plisetsky. Yuuri gasped and reached for the duvet to cover himself in order to maintain his modesty, but Viktor remained calm as he leisurely sat up on the bed. If Yuri didn’t want to see anything, he should’ve learned how to knock. 

“Really, there’s a whole self-righteous organization going after our necks and you’re in here, fucking his brains out?” Yuri was indignant. 

“What do you want, kitten? The door was closed for a reason.” Viktor replied uninterestedly.

Yuri walked around the bed and gestured his arms at Yuuri offensively while keeping his eyes on his boss. “You fucking kidnapped an international athlete to be your sex toy? What’s next? Kidnap the Queen’s corgis so Makkachin has playmates?”

“I did not kidnap him. I invited him to come here and he willingly stayed. Tell me, why is this getting your panties in a bunch?”

“Because that’s the reason why the HSA is after us, you fucking idiot! And while you were busy eating this Katsudon out in bed, I had to deal with the agents! Do you even know there’s a HSA agent living under your roof?” All the screaming made Yuri even more agitated. The talk with JJ had told him what he needed to know. Otabek Altin was the best of HSA agents and if he’d been sent to shut them down, he would see it happen.

_ Not on my watch _ . 

Yuri’d vowed. He wasn’t going to be the idiot who fell for a guy, causing everything to go  crumbling down. If Viktor was too preoccupied with his conquest to care about whether there was a ‘legal mafia’ after their tail, Yuri would take care of it on his own. 

For a price.

“I want to make a deal with you,” Yuri said determinedly and looked straight into Viktor’s eyes. “I want out. I want my dedushka’s debts to be cleared and I want you to compensate me a sum of money enough to let me live comfortably in the next thirty years.”

Viktors lips pulled up into a smile indicating he was interested. “What will I get in return?” He challenged Yuri to amuse him with the deal. 

“HSA’s best agent, Otabek Altin.”

 

**(End of Chapter 4)**

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well lookat dat, I'm still alive. I'm really sorry for taking such a long time for an update. I hope this chapter is worth the wait. I'm planning to conclude this story is about 2 more chapters. Salmon and I are going to make it into a full doujin. We might get it printed if we can get it done by December. Leave your reviews on whatever you think about this fic, the doujin, OtaYura or whatever. Positive reviews are most welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm seriously honoured to be working with [Salmon](https://iamatrashfan.tumblr.com/) for my first OtaYuri fic. This is all thanks to her amazing art on Special Agent!Otabek that made my head full of ideas. First chapter is a little short, and I know there would be grammatical mistakes here and there. But please accept this humble work of mine and check out Salmon's Otayuri's art on her tumblr!


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